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Destiny
3
Fizzure

Fizzure

Edited: 9/22/2014 9:23:01 PM
[Continuation of the first part. Both stories are tied to each other. Looking for constructive feedback. If there are any inconsistencies please bring them to my attention. NOTE: This is a time before the ghosts, guardians could not be revived in combat.] Years had passed. I didn’t arrive in the city until just a few years before… I was no guardian, but I was still a hunter. One doesn’t need to have powers to know how to hunt, how to kill. I’d fallen into a group of real guardians, ones who knew how to call forth the light of the traveler. However, not being a guardian didn’t make me useless. I could still throw my knife, and I was right on par with some of the best hunters when it came to knife fighting. I earned my keep on their team, and I wore a Hunter’s armor scavenged off of the corpses of other guardians. Those days weren’t so bad, they helped me find more about Captain Reche, the one who killed my mother. Every day out in the field drew me one step closer to tracking and avenging her death. The Guardians I had been working with not only helped me survive longer, they filled a hole in my life that had been empty. We were a pack: Moira, Guntz, and myself. Together we formed a fire team like any other, but certainly not any worse. All of us had something unique that distinguished us from most guardians… We had all been outside the wall on our own for longer than a year. Moira was separated from her unit and later learned that they had died. She was left to wait for support that never came. We never liked one another, but we held a mutual respect. For a human Warlock, she held up pretty tough in the wild. I found her first and ran with her until we stumbled onto Guntz. In an abandoned military facility, a lone Titan stood guard. This lumbering Exo patrolled an abandoned military outpost used during the first war, fighting whatever was left of the Hive and guarding the secrets in the base. Moira and I had gone out on a supply run and found the clunker wandering empty halls… All this time, Guntz knew that he could leave and return to the city, but something kept him there. We ended up in a pinch that resulted in destroying the facility and whatever secrets Guntz was guarding—the Hive were rooted in deep, and Guntz wasn’t leaving until we dealt with them. “What was he guarding?” Dink interrupts my train of thought, causing me to point the tip of the knife against him. “That’s a different story. Now shut it. I’m answering your question. Why’s this so important to you anyway?” “Just an observation, but you’re angry all the time. The speaker says we can learn a lot of our guardians by finding out—“ “Look, this little bonding experiment is a wasting of time for both of us. As I was saying…” The night that I died, my rage caused our cohesion to spiral into calamity. The impulse to avenge my mother led to our deaths. We were sent to patrol the edge of wall of the Cosmodrome. Being on the outside with less than six guardians was a bold move for any guardian—But to the three of us, this was our home. A deal had been struck in secret; The Future War Cult sent us to meet a group Fallen raiders–ones that wore steel-blue cloaks. They were the ones who planted the seed of darkness into my heart; the raiding party was led by Captain Reche: The House of Winter. In exchange for some of their weapons, we were going to trade a portion of territory that we kept as storage for Golden Age Artifacts—it was a glorified scrap yard for derelict technology we'd never use again. Nostalgic rubbish from our shattered past. The night air was crisp, there was no moon, and they had the advantage in both tactics and number. Aside from knowing the land, our only trump card we held was a beacon. This beacon would call down an artillery strike from behind the wall with only a few seconds delay. Behind the steel monolith, Twenty-eight barrels pointed at the sky ready to rain down solar hellfire. They were manned by an all-female Titan unit, the guns of the 28th Legion Bombardiers... “The Boom Kitties”. I hated this; having to deal with those arachnid vermin just because Moira was convinced we could gain an upper hand. She believed that procuring a cache of their exotic plasma weapons would put better weapons in the hands of the guardians. Warlocks and their thirst for knowledge... They seldom question the price of their arrogance, besides, despite using primitive projectiles we still manage to kill them just fine. Reche was my only motive for being there. “You must survive Valias!” I still hear her screams in the back of my mind each night. Not a morning passes that I don’t wake up clenching the hilt of my father’s knife. “You’re late Guardians” “We took our time getting here. Had to make sure we knew we were walking into an ambush.” Moira said. She was always too cocky, even in the face of danger. Tonight, I wasn't any better. “Did you bring the weapons or not insect?” I asked, breaking ranks as Guntz, set a metal hand on my shoulder. I saw the Fallen lifting their weapons but I only realized why after Guntz's other hand held my wrist. I was reaching for Ganon, my father’s hand cannon. It was an uncanny thing and had an aura about it that had saved me too many times to count; finish an enemy and feel new strength flow through you. I always felt like it was my father helping me, somehow, I knew he watched from whatever realm his soul took rest. My arm slid back up and Moira shot me chilling glare before turning back to face Reche. “You don't come unarmed as we had agreed.” Reche chortled. “And you came with more than three soldiers. The tables are even, our deal still stands. The weapons or we walk—with the key card to our scrapyard.” “I came with two! These Dregs are swill, hardly soldiers in the eyes of any Fallen... Besides. They carry the weapons you desire.” Reche turns to one of his Vandals and utters something in fallen, the Vandal then grunts a set of orders over his shoulder and four Dregs lumber up from behind them heaving four large chests. “Give us the key, take them, and be gone. Or we could just kill you where you stand and take the key. Makes no difference.” Even in the night, I could see the way their cloaks rustled whenever they moved. There was no way I was wrong, this had to be them… “You'll just do that anyway.” I retort, this time, Guntz isn't quick enough to stop me. I feel my blood boiling, surging through me as I recall all four of Reche’s hands plucking my mother's head from her shoulders and tossing it like a bad memory. My other hand grips hilt of my blade and a whispering breeze urges me to move, adrenaline pushing speed into my limbs. My rage overtakes me and in my sprint and I hurl the knife toward one of the Vandals. The Vandal falls dead, the knife lodged in its head. Before the body hits the ground, I retrieve it as I move into their ranks. Reche yells to his troops and uses a few of his Dregs for cover. I can hear the plasma being discharged from all around, but I don’t stop my advance. Guntz's LMG shakes the air as each round leaves the barrel and mows down the ambushing Dregs and Shanks. They leap from the shadows of skeleton cars and behind the boulders that overlook our clearing. I wished that Moira hadn’t been right, but she was. She was always right... Damn space fairies. However, Moira still wasn't one to walk away from a prize. Niether was I. [continued in next post.]

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        Fizzure

        Fizzure

        Edited: 8/27/2014 6:48:05 PM Permalink
        Two down. Another Vandal falls as I drive my blade into its throat, cleaving my way closer to Reche. Each time I strike, I slice off a limb before delivering the killing blow. It’s my way of humiliating a Fallen before I finish him. But the way the Dregs suffer when they die, gasping for air and choking on blood... It almost reminds me of the way my mother died. Almost. There’s too many in front of me, Reche has himself dug in deep enough to use his men as fodder—most Captains I’ve come across have had more of a spine than this coward. I guess that’s the risk you take when fighting an enemy with an exoskeleton. Right as they turn and focus their fire on me, I feel a tremendous burst of energy from above me. Most of the Dregs guarding Reche are vaporized in a single blast of void energy... Moira. The aftershock causes me to lose my balance and stumble forward. Moira lands beside me and helps me up by the shoulder. “Hunter” she says, tipping her head. “I believe this makes us even.” “I had it under control!” I yell, charging into the path she cleared for me. “Oh I’m sure you and your utensil there had it all under control. But they were in my way too and I didn’t feel like waiting for you and your fineness.” She says, running head of me and splitting off to the right, making a B-line for one of the chests. Her fusion rifle is devastating for crowd control, its blasts tear through the Dregs as clustering together to guard the chest. I’m cleaning up the other stragglers to the left. One of the Dregs dashes toward me with daggers drawn. Its horizontal swipe to my chest falls short; my blade makes contact in his elbow joint before his dagger can connect with my body. The arm falls to the ground but the creature doesn’t flinch. Instead, it tries again with the remaining arm. My feet bring me inside the range of his attack but I’m pushed against its chest—too close for him to land a hit. It’s quick when it happens, my blade staking the beast’s throat before I pull it out and redirect my focus. I still feel unsated and I want more. I want Reche. Amid the chaos, that bastard flees to his Pike now that he’s lost the advantage. “Kill them all! I want that key you worthless larva!” he calls out. I sheathe my blade and draw Ganon with my other hand. Four shots to his pike’s engine causes the speeder to fail upon starting. The Captain growls, his head whips around and all four of his glowing eyes are locked with my visor. Guntz throws up an arc shield, buying us time for a safe retreat, but Moira is too busy opening her bounty and I'm too hell bent on killing Reche. “Valias! Moira! Fall back, I can’t hold them for too long!” Guntz mechanized voice shouts from behind the shield. “Just a few more seconds Guntz! I want to see what their own weapons can do to them...” Moira shouts, setting down her fusion rifle and twisting the cylinder to unlock the metal crate. Moira sets her weapon on the ground and kneels to open the weapon cache. I’m watching all this from the corner of my eye as the Captain phases out of sight into the shadows, dodging a shot from my revolver. The lid of the crate opens, an ominous green light seeps from the crevice. It happens too quick realize… The crate explodes in an azure tidal wave of energy. The green light that engulfs Moira’s body sends the upper portion of her torso through Guntz's shield. It rolls like a tumble weed gushing blood and lands at the toes of the Titan’s boots. Three more explosions sound off from the other crates which keeps him from tending to Moira. Each explosion helps thin the number of Dregs who were too close, but the arc shield flickers and dissipates. The Exo drops his LMG and reaches for a shotgun slung over his back. He unfastens the banner around his hip and steps over Moira while I try refocusing on where ever Reche disappeared to. I can’t turn away from the Exo though. I’ve always admired his stoicism toward us; an automaton who would give his life for either of us… Am I really too selfish to match the machine’s empathy? Guntz’s banner ripples in slow motion and blankets her corpse—a Titan’s way of saying goodbye to a comrade in a firefight. “Go with the light of the Traveler!” he cries out, heaving a grenade over his shoulder that flashes in blinding light. He pushes forward delivering a sermon to the stunned Fallen in shrapnel hymns from his Preacher Mk. 20; but his chambers run dry forcing the Exo to reload in the open. As each cartridge slides into the chamber, Guntz’s metallic voice spews threats and curses into the dark. The reply he receives is a thin blue beam of light, it silences his rant as he falls onto his back and lays motionless on the ground. The transparent silhouette of a sniper slithers back into the night to take up another vantage point. Before the sniper can reposition, I sink my last round in the chamber into his head and watch the body take shape as it falls to the dusty ground. Another beam flanks me from the right, hammering its way into my side and causing me to fall to my knees. Reche emerges from the dark, his top arms up signal his men to stop firing. I reach for my belt and squeeze what I've been holding in one of the pouches. The raiders pullback and the firing stops. In Reche’s lower set of arms are a pair of arc cutlasses. The pair of sinister black blades slice through the air, sparking as he draws nearer… It’s customary for a fallen captain to execute their quarry—but you don’t need me to remind you how I learned that. “You were dead from the beginning Guardian. Give me the key and I'll kill you quicker than I had planned to.” “So were you.” I say... The object in my pouch was the beacon, I activated it. In the distance the sound of thunder followed twenty-eight balls of fire shot from over the wall. The guns of the 28th Legion descend like falling stars toward us. The Boom Kitties were known for being both punctual and thorough. “Run!” calls Reche, turning to flee, but it's too late. The rounds impact the ground and each one expels a firestorm in its wake. Molten sunlight incinerates the fallen who had taken refuge in the terrain. Reche is driven back into the night, tearing his way into the black horizon but I see him in the light of the round that collides with his body. He wails a hissing death cry, cooked by the solar light bottled in very large bullet. This goes on for a good minute as I wait to bleed out or be burned by the artillery. His suffering isn’t enough, but it gives me something to grin about as the breathing gets harder. The last thing I see is his mangled body burning, shriveling up like a bug in the flames. My eyes close and I am at peace. “It was worth disappointing you Mother” are the last words that leave my lips as my body gives out. *** “Not all of us are "the good guys" Dink. Not all of us died defending the light nor do all of us have virtue and honor. Some of us are just different flavors of scoundrel like the vermin we fight.” I say, lifting my head and turning back to the ghost who hovers over the landscape. “The Traveler knows this, yet he still chose you. There is always a light to be kindled, even in the darkness your heart harbors. That darkness brightens each time you fuel the light through your actions.” “But I was so impulsive, my grief drove me to kill Reche instead of saving Guntz and Moira, if we had worked to—.” “But you avenged your mother, didn’t you? You died with a smile on your lips, and a fire in your heart Scythe. You are a guardian of the light, a blade of hope, a hunter. If grief is your darkness then burn it to ash, learn to live in the light. Survive.” I continue carving what I had been into my armor... The names of those I lost becoming who I am: Moira. Guntz. Mother. All dead because I was either too foolish, or too weak. No more packs, no more comrades. Just me and my ghost from this point onward. “This is your second chance Guardian. Use it.” “At what cost Dink?” I ask. At what Cost… [end. There are portions where italicized words didn't go through properly.]
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          Wes
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          Wes

          9/2/2014 12:22:19 PM Permalink
          Best fan fic I've read so far. I like how you put a spin on it, this is very well written
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